


The Milk

by bonesmctightass



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arguing, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Milk Runs, Multi, Sleepy Boys, Slice of Life, There's always arguing where McCoy is involved, as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/pseuds/bonesmctightass
Summary: A midnight snack turns into a 3AM milk run.





	

Heat.

Unbearable, stifling heat.

Jim Kirk roused from his fitful sleep when the comforting warmth turned into an inferno intent on swallowing him up and never letting go. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead and soaked through his shirt. He needed to escape.

More importantly, he needed to take a piss. And a shower.

At first, his attempts at freedom were quite fruitless. Spock, who was putting off the brunt of the heat, had his arm wrapped protectively around Jim’s chest. McCoy was snoring away on his other side, hand set possessively on Jim’s hip. This was going to take some serious maneuvering. Jim reached for a pillow and began steadily working his way out of the loving embraces. After a series of squirming and fidgeting he was able to replace his body with the cushion and the slumbering men were none the wiser.

After using the bathroom and giving himself a thorough rinsing, Jim decided the middle of the night was as good a time as any to grab a snack. Making a bee line for the kitchen, he stopped in front of the cupboard and perused their selection of cereals. Yes, a quick bowl and then he would be back to bed. Since his beloved doctor was currently unconscious and thereby unable to stop him, Jim decided on a sugary variety. He gathered a bowl and poured himself an ample amount of the sweet cinnamon squares. A devilish mixture of anticipation and rebellion flooded him as he went to the fridge. When he opened it, his giddiness quickly turned to disbelief.

The _fucking_ milk was gone.

“You are in distress,” mused a voice from the doorway, scaring Jim half to death.

After Jim had peeled himself off the ceiling and slowed his heart rate, he glared at Spock and gestured wildly to the fridge. “Why is there no milk in here?”

Spock simply raised a brow and inclined his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps Leonard indulged in his nightly practice of consuming warm milk before bed and neglected to replace the container.” As ever, his logic was rather sound.

“Leonard did what now?” McCoy ambled into the kitchen scratching unabashedly at his backside, looking as disheveled as he was groggy. It quickly became apparent that he was half asleep. He swayed precariously before leaning heavily on Spock, who contentedly accepted the weight.

The pout currently affixed to Jim’s face rivaled that of Joanna when she wasn’t allowed sweets for breakfast. “Bones, you drank the rest of the milk. How am I supposed to eat cereal without any milk?” With a churlish snort, Jim plodded to the living room and retrieved the car keys from the hook beside the door.

“It is unwise to venture out of the house at this hour. You have not yet gotten enough sleep.” Spock protested obstructively. McCoy grunted unintelligibly in what was possibly agreement. “Allow me to go in your stead.”

Jim wasn’t having any of that. “Not a chance, mister. You’ll get skim. I want the whole. I want my damn milk just as fatty as it was intended to be.” If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn Spock wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Very well. Then permit me to drive you.” Spock was not about to let his bondmate shove off alone, especially without sufficient knowledge of the surrounding towns.

“Now wait just a damn minute,” McCoy remonstrated, feeling a great deal more alert. “It’s three in the morning, the stores aren’t even open. Just where are you planning to go?” He was giving his leap-before-you-look lover a discontented frown.

“We live in _Georgia_ , Bones. There’s bound to be a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart within ten miles of here,” Jim reasoned combatively, feeling moderately salty about the situation. He was going to get his milk and finish what he started even if he had to drag his reluctant lovers along for the ride.

“Then let us leave now and we will return shortly. Leonard, I suggest you return to bed as you are on-call tonight.” Spock laid a hand on McCoy’s back and attempted to redirect him to the bedroom, but the man’s stubbornness was as legendary as his medical prowess.

McCoy grumbled and pushed back against the urging hand. “I don’t think so. I refuse to be left out. I’m going along too, damn it!” He wasn’t about to admit that he was weary of being left in solitude. Spock smiled gently, knowingly. McCoy ignored the look and proceeded to pull on his jacket and boots.

Jim reached forward and grabbed McCoy’s hand. “As if I would let you stay home alone anyway, you old grouch. Anything we do, we do together. But I’m still mad at you for drinking all the milk!”

“I suggest we ‘get a move on’,” Spock interjected, then made a noise similar to a sigh.

The triumvirate piled into Jim’s car and eventually located a suitable shopping center. Jim was thrilled as he carried his single gallon of milk to the self-service area with his two somnolent mates in tow.

By the time they pulled into the driveway it was five o’clock. Jim had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around the jug and McCoy was drooling on the window.

With a shake of his head, Spock gathered up his bondmates in his arms and carried them back to their bedroom.

 

That morning, everyone had cereal for breakfast.  

 

 

 

   

     

  

 


End file.
